


Proof That I Was Not Found at the Bottom of the Sea

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Attempt at Remy LeBeau's Accent, Background Remy LeBeau/Rogue (X-Men), Cats, Cherik on Krakoa, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Rogue invites Charles over for a cup of totally not Krakoan-produced tea, he does not expect to run into Xandra Neramani, Majestrix-in-learning of the Shi'ar Empire and the heir of his past love Lilandra Neramani. And what he expects even less is for said Majestrix to reveal herself as his daughter.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Xandra Neramani & Charles Xavier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: X-Men Rare Pairs 2021





	Proof That I Was Not Found at the Bottom of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hllfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hllfire/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [hllfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hllfire/pseuds/hllfire) in the [xmenrarepairs21](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs21) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Actually past Lilandra/Charles and more about Charles & Xandra.  
> Something fluffy and/or funny about Charles finding out the new Shi'ar Empress is his and Lilandra's (genetically created) daughter. Maybe Charles wonders how all of his kids are telepaths, you do whatever you want, I just want these two meeting.
> 
> Hopefully the various references to current Dawn of X runs won't be too obscure for you, dear prompter. I just couldn't resist getting Charles and Rogue together so they could clear up that whole 'Make more mutants' problem she already talked about with Gambit in Excalibur #6. Also, Charles Xavier in comics isn't exactly well-known for good fathering skills, so I hope you enjoy this taste of What Could Have Been 💙 
> 
> Title from Cynthia Manick's [A Taste of Blue](https://poets.org/poem/taste-blue).

It was a warm, lazy early afternoon over Krakoa. The birds chirped and the crickets sang, and a lizard sped away as Charles passed a little too closely by the rock on which it had been sunbathing. All was right.

“Do you think Emma knows something?” Erik, walking by his side, asked quietly.

Charles looked over at his old friend and smiled. Wearing Cerebro made everything appear blue, and time and time again, Charles found himself transfixed by the chiselled beauty of Erik’s features, no less handsome for the lines of ageing slowly carving themselves around his eyes and mouth.

“I do believe it will be alright,” he finally answered, laying a hand on Erik’s arm. “Maybe it was just pure coincidence that she chose to dedicate the Madripoor hospital to Moira’s memory. And even if she _was_ onto something – sooner or later, we will have to face the music and tell them, anyway. Tell them all.”

Erik gave a sardonic smile. “Well, Mystique will be delighted.”

“We’ll deal with Raven when we have to.” Charles’ gaze wandered over to the little pod house lying at a little distance to their right. Rogue had hung red-and-white chequered curtains in the kitchen window – Destiny and Mystique had had similar ones when she’d been little, she had told Charles one day during one of Excalibur’s debriefings. In the front garden, Remy had planted tomatoes, beans and bell peppers.

They passed by in peaceful silence and had barely reached the bend which would take them from view and down to the lab where they were to meet Beast on X-Force business, when Rogue poked her head out of the door and hailed them, shouting, “Hey, Professor! Wait up, will ya?”

Charles came to a halt, gently giving pressure onto Erik’s arm so the metalokinetic would do the same. “What is it, Rogue?”

The young woman was wearing a light summer dress and long, jade-green gloves – an odd combination, but not an unfamiliar one. She smiled and gestured for them to come over. Charles complied, while Erik stayed where he was.

“We got someone over we wantcha ta meet, Prof,” Rogue said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her mind, though subdued in Charles’ presence, rippled with an undercurrent of excitement and… anxiety?

“I’m not sure-” Charles glanced back at Erik where he stood waiting, arms crossed over his chest and cape billowing in the mellow sea breeze. “Rogue, we’re supposed to hear Beast out on… X-Force affairs.”

“Aw, Ah’m sure that can wait.” Her bright green eyes twinkled mischievously as she locked a hand around his wrist, tugging lightly. “C’mon, Professor, just for a few minutes – we got that Earl Grey tea brewin', the one you’ve had trouble securin' for weeks now.”

Charles sighed. It was true – he hadn’t had a quiet minute to portal to London and purchase his favourite brand of black tea, or even to ask someone to do it for him. Simple creature comforts like that had been lacking ever since Krakoa had truly taken off as a nation.

“Well, you got me there,” he admitted, giving her a defeated smile. “But just for a few minutes.”

Triumph sparked bright and yellow as sunlight through Rogue’s thoughts. “Yes, thank you! Please, come in, come in.” And with a firm hand on his shoulder, she ushered him into the house.

With Erik’s helmet under his arms and his mind exposed to Charles, it was easy to send a short, heartfelt apology. _I’m sorry, my dear, but it seems we’ll have to postpone with Hank. Could you possibly go tell him that?_

 _You’re a push-over, Charles,_ came Erik’s response promptly, tinged with fondness. _But I’ll run along and play messenger boy for you. If Hank protests, am I allowed to fling him through a wall?_

Charles nodded his thanks as Rogue showed him to the kitchen and had him sit down at the table by the window. He couldn’t exactly fault Erik for instinctively disliking Hank – because didn’t everyone?

 _As long as he doesn’t end up in resurrection protocols, feel free to use a moderate amount of force to get your point across_ , he sent as he watched Rogue rummage around on the kitchen counter, fish a clean cup from a cabinet and pour a healthy load of tea into it. _Will you join us later?_

_Certainly. I couldn’t leave you at the mercy of unexpected new acquaintances, could I now?_

But Charles knew Erik expected no answer. He had just time to brush the psychic equivalent of a kiss onto Erik’s mind, before Erik lifted his helmet and fitted it snuggly over his head, winking out of Charles’ psychic view of the world.

“Good?” asked Rogue as she slid into the chair opposite him and watched him take a tentative sip of the still steaming tea.

Charles hummed approvingly. “ _Excellent_. Hot, but so lovely. Thank you, Rogue.”

“You’re welcome.” Smiling, she nodded to the Cerebro helmet. “You don’ wanna take that thing of, Prof?”

“You can call me Charles, you know, Rogue?” He put his cup down and reached up, gingerly balancing Cerebro’s weight as he lifted it off his head and set it down by his elbow. He had gotten so used to it by now that he hardly ever noticed when he was still wearing it – in fact, he thought he had started to feel rather too exposed when he was without it. “We can still use our human names.”

She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “Yeah, sure. Like _you_ just called me _Anna Marie_ the last few minutes.”

Charles chuckled. “Alright, alright – point taken.”

Rogue grinned and was just opening her mouth to speak when there came a crash and a yowl from behind the bead curtain obscuring the door to the back garden and the little bayou lying beyond. The wooden pearls rattled and jangled, and a bolt of orange fur shot through the opening, streaked over the kitchen floor, and leapt onto Charles’ lap.

“Jeez Louise, what are they _doin’_ to you guys out there?” Rogue leaned forward in her seat and stroked the orange cat in Charles’ arms behind its ears before she glanced up. “That’s Lucifer, by the way. Should I take him from you, or…?”

Charles tickled Lucifer under his little, fluffy chin and smiled. Wide-eyed and feral before, the cat was now quickly starting to calm down and melt into his touch, purring as it began to knead the thighs of his black latex suit. “Thank you, but I think he’ll be just fine here.”

“Always had a flair for strays, didn’t ya?” But Rogue was not fishing for an answer. Sighing, she propped up her chin on her palms. “These little guys, they’re like kids to us, y’know? Our babies – _nos p’tis chéris_ ,” she purred in an imitation of Gambit’s accent.

Charles chuckled, then let out a delighted gasp as Lucifer flipped onto his back and demanded belly rubs. Taking care not to let the cat slip from the slippery latex in which his lap was clad, Charles gratefully buried his hand in the soft, downy fur and revelled in the contented purrs it elicited.

“And I’m sure they keep you on your toes,” he replied. “Are you and Remy maybe thinking about adding to your collection of children sometime soon? I’m sure you’d make wonderful parents to a mutant of your own.”

The very moment that dread, grey and ice-cold, sparked over Rogue’s mind, he knew he had said the wrong thing. When he looked up, she was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Rogue…” He ceased to massage Lucifer’s belly, and the cat protested and bumped its head insistently against his palm, but by then he was already reaching across the table and gingerly taking one of Rogue’s gloved hands in his. “I’m sorry - is something the matter? What did I do wrong?”

“ _You_ didn’t do anythin’ wrong, Professor,” she sniffed, and with dawning horror, Charles watched tears well up in her eyes. Why did he _always_ say the _wrong_ _thing_? “It’s not you, promise. Ah just- That third law, Ah’m not sure Ah can- that Ah’ll ever want to-”

“If it’s your powers, Rogue…” Charles trailed off and swallowed, not finding it in himself to do more than give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hank could certainly find something-”

“No!” She tore her hand from his grip with such force that he startled, the cat on his lap giving a dismayed yowl and burying his claws in his thighs. "Ah’m sorry, Charles, but Ah don’ want that. Ah’ve already had enough trouble with my body as it is – with Carol Danvers and, y’know, the whole psyche-absorbin’ thing – and Ah don’ think Ah’ll be able to take you proddin’ at me with, Ah don’ know, syringes and all that!” Fierceness sparked in the green of her eyes as she sat back down and held on to her cup of tea like a lifeline. “Ah’ve already had enough people inside my head – Ah don’ need another one in my belly.”

“Of course, Rogue.” Distraught, Charles went back to carding his fingers through Lucifer’s luscious ginger pelt, not taking his eyes off the young woman in front of him. “I apologise for bringing it up. You and Remy, you have all the time in the world to decide… and if you think you’ll never be ready, then that’s just how it is. It’s not a law per se – more of a suggestion really – and it doesn’t diminish your worth in _any_ way if you chose not to have children.”

She looked up at him, her hair falling in disarray over her forehead – shimmering auburn streaked with white. The doubts had not yet bled completely from her thoughts and then- then Charles picked something up. A projection, involuntary perhaps, but there nonetheless.

His eyes widened in horror.

 _Ah was strapped to a table. The Professor was there, and Forge, and all the Five, and they were pokin’ at me. They were experimentin’ on me to see if Ah could have a baby. Talkin’ about how we all had to have_ babies _now, but if Ah did it, it’d_ kill _me or the baby or both._

“Rogue-”

“It was just a silly nightmare, Ah know.” Rogue lowered her eyes, wringing her hands on the tabletop, her cheeks colouring. “Ah had it when Apocalypse had me trapped in that floral stasis in the Braddock lighthouse. But it felt- it felt so real-”

Charles breathed out slowly, in vain trying to calm his racing heart. “Rogue- I’m _sorry_ we made you feel that way. We would never do that to you – to anyone.”

Finally – _finally_ – relief began to colour her mind the shade of the sky after heavy rainfall, and a tentative smile spread on her lips. “Yeah. Ah know. Thank you, Professor.”

He mirrored the smile in what he hoped was a calming manner before he took up his teacup again. “Any time, Rogue. I’m sure the cats don’t mind it if they get to stay your top priority for a long time still.”

“Naw, betcha they don’!” And back she was, the cheerful, ever-helpful young woman. “In fact, Prof, me an’ Remy were thinkin’ – you should expand the resurrection protocols to felines, y’know.”

He grinned. “Rogue, I’m not sure if that would count as an abuse of power-”

He broke off when the bead curtain jingled and Remy stepped through, followed closely by-

Was that the Majestrix-in-learning of the Shi’ar, Xandra Neramani?

Charles felt his mouth run dry. She looked so much like Lilandra. So much.

It would possibly never cease to hurt.

Xandra’s eyes – jarring in their inhuman shade of pink – met his, and before he could look away, she smiled and tried to give something like a wave from where she had her arms wrapped around a large white cat. Remy, too, was holding a purring feline with a luscious grey pelt, chucking it under the chin as he grinned at Charles. He was dressed in loose brown cotton pants and had his gaudy burgundy shirt half unbuttoned, his red eyes sparking as he cried out, “Why, salut, mon ami le professeur! What brings you to our ‘umble abode, Xavier?”

“Earl Grey.” Charles held up his teacup. “And Rogue, who told me you had someone you wanted me to meet.”

“Eh ben ouais, we do indeed. Voilà!” Carefully having deposited the grey cat – Oliver, if Charles remembered correctly – into Rogue’s waiting arms, Gambit spun around and grabbed Xandra’s shoulders, steering her in front of him as he stage-whispered into her ear, “Don’ be shy, m’demoiselle, come see. Our Professeur don’ bite – most o’ the time.”

Rogue huffed out a bark of laughter while Xandra giggled shily, and even Charles couldn’t help a small smile. “Well now, Gambit, don’t scare off your visitor.”

Figaro, the white cat, had squirmed out of Xandra’s hold and was now strutting over to where Remy was pouring himself some tea, which gave Charles the opportunity to offer the young Majestrix a hand to shake. “I believe we haven’t properly met yet, Majestrix Neramani. Maybe at the house party Smasher and Sam Guthrie held for the New Mutants a few months back, but I can’t recall…”

The girl smiled. Her hand was soft and warm as she accepted his, so small that it almost vanished in his gentle grip. “We haven’t, Professor Xavier. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Why, the pleasure is all mine.”

As Xandra rounded the kitchen table to sit down by Rogue’s side, Charles couldn’t help but follow her with his gaze. She was so young – a mere child. And already she had survived an uprising during which she had been kidnapped and almost slaughtered, condemned to pay the price for the sins of all the Shi’ar rulers which had come before her. Fortunately for her and the Shi’ar government, the X-Men had been fast at hand – Charles had sat by himself when Storm had debriefed the Quiet Council on the mission – but would they still be there the next time Xandra found herself in mortal danger?

Charles hid the downward slant of his mouth behind his teacup. It seemed that not only mutants grew up fast.

Xandra was barely seated and outfitted with tea and biscuits when Rogue excused herself from the table under the pretence of having to water the plants. Charles frowned as he watched her go, the dissonant melody of her lie ringing clear and loud in his mind.

His attention was soon diverted to Xandra, though. Oliver had jumped onto her lap, probably in hopes of pilfering a biscuit or two, and now she was stroking his back confidently as he purred and writhed under her touch. Her smile stretched wide, and she turned to Gambit.

“We don’t have cats on Chandilar!” she exclaimed, delight sparking rose-golden over her mind. It was a strange amalgam of Shi’ar psyche and something that felt eerily familiar to Charles. “They are the most divine creatures on Earth – except mutants, of course.”

“Aye, ‘cept mutants.” Gambit grinned and nodded over at Charles. “Careful whatcha say ‘bout us when he’s around, petite.”

Charles tsked, stroking his own purring lap-warmer under the chin. “Remy, stop making me look bad in front of the young lady - or you’ll have to offer her a kitten of her own in apology.”

He knew his idea was certain to backfire even before Xandra squealed excitedly and Gambit gave a long, theatrical sigh. “No, Prof! Don’ give her ideas!”

“Well, perhaps cats would count as an invasive species on Chandilar-”

“What is an invasive species?” Xandra asked, her eyes wide and her lilting Shi’ar accent thickening with every word.

“Yeah, _good_.” Suddenly, Gambit jumped up from his hair, patting Charles’ shoulder as he strutted past and said, “Me thinks the missus is callin’ from the garden – gonna have a look an’ see if Gambit can be o’ help. You explain invasive species to the m’demoiselle, Charlie.”

And just like that, Gambit was gone, and Charles was sitting alone with Xandra at the kitchen table. Well, alone with Xandra and three pet-demanding cats.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and took a sip of his tea, well aware of her eyes following his every movement. Then, he set down his cup.

“Well, Majestrix – shall I tell you about invasive species?”

Xandra nodded enthusiastically, and warmth bloomed in Charles’ chest at the sight. He folded his hands under his chin and began to explain.

Xandra, it turned out, was a fast learner, and a bright young mind starving for knowledge of the unconventional kind. They quickly passed on to Punnett squares and Charles’ earlier field of studies, before they glossed over the history of the Shi’ar Empire, Krakoa’s rather young reign and the countless complications the running of a nation brought on.

“The Imperial Guard were the first to ever want me harm – but they are my protectors now.” Xandra smiled and let Oliver nibble at one of her dainty fingers.

Charles frowned. “Yes, I know. Rogue and Gambit reported to Kitty after their honeymoon was rather spectacularly derailed by your arrival. But tell me, Majestrix – why would they want to capture you?”

The girl seemed unaware of the horror of her next words as she said, “I am classified as an Omega-level weapon.”

Figaro, squeezed onto Charles’ lap by Lucifer’s side, protested promptly when Charles stopped stroking his fur. “Omega-level? Weapon? Why?”

“I am a telepath.” Xandra smiled as Lucifer hopped down onto the floor and came to roam around the legs of her chair instead. When she looked up to meet Charles’ eyes, the crown of jet-black feathers growing on her head in place of hair shimmered in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. “Just like you.”

Charles’ heart took a nose-dive. He was feeling faint.

“I knew your mother, Majestrix Lilandra,” he murmured. “We loved each other… very much. You remind me a lot of her – and of someone else.”

Xandra’s smile persisted. “I know.”

Willing his fingers not to tremble, Charles took up his teacup, holding on to it like Rogue had desperately gripped hers not so long ago. He drew in a deep breath before he asked, “And who – if you allow me the question – who is your father?”

Somehow, he saw the answer coming before Xandra had even opened her mouth to answer.

“You.”

And still, it was a blow.

The teacup froze half-way between the tabletop and Charles’ lips. Suddenly, Charles wished he had never taken Cerebro off, to shield at least part of his expression from the world and Xandra’s oh-so honest, open gaze. He had lived a lot in his myriads of lifetimes – seen a lot – done a lot of unjustified wrongs - but being a parent had never been one of his strengths.

David’s agonised face, his screams and pleas, flashed before his eyes.

He could not do this. He had never been a good father.

He only registered that he had let go of the teacup – the porcelain handle slipping out of his slackening grasp – when Figaro bolted from his lap with a hiss and Remy suddenly came rushing back into the room, grabbing a towel and spreading it over Charles’ lap as he muttered curses in Cajun under his breath. Xandra gasped, her hand shooting forward to take Charles’. Her question – “Father, are you alright?” – was almost drowned out by the ringing in Charles’ ears.

He nodded slowly even as he felt his eyes grow moist.

“I’m fine, Xandra. Thank you.”

 _Father._ Her hand felt so small in his. So small, so fragile, so easily broken. He squeezed it gently and smiled, and the first tears welled up and streaked down his cheek.

Of course, Erik chose that very moment to enter, his cape billowing dramatically as Rogue followed hot on his heels. Turmoil streaked over the metalokinetic’s mind – his helmet was once again off, held in the crook of his elbow – the moment he saw the sheer mess which had erupted in a matter of mere minutes, and he was by Charles’ side immediately, pushing a spluttering Gambit out of his way. His hand landed heavily on Charles’ thigh, squeezing as he fell to his knees in front of Charles. “Charles! What happened? Are you-?”

Gambit growled. “Hé alors, mon ami, what do you think you’re-?”

Charles barely heard them through the static of his thoughts. His heart was racing, like it was threatening to fold in on itself any moment now. Xandra had reached out for his mind with her young, fresh one, a bright sunbeam through the storm of his agitated psyche.

The sheer love she held for him was overwhelming, and only made the tears flow stronger.

The chaos around them abated only when Rogue grabbed both Remy and Erik by the collar and dragged them away. “Sugar, you’re no use here,” she told Gambit, who retreated to the doorframe with a grumbled “Oui, ma colombe.” Erik just wordlessly leaned against the kitchen counter, his steel-grey eyes steadily trained on Charles.

“Why did you not tell me?” Charles asked, unable to take his eyes off Xandra’s face.

“We figured she’d want to let you know in her own time,” Rogue answered, not a trace of regret in her voice. “Ah’m sorry to say, but you have… a history with kids.”

Charles couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “I do, Rogue, and you’re right to call me out. I’m sorry, Xandra, but I might not be the man you expect me to be. You’re so strong, so honest and good… and I am everything but.”

“Maybe you aren’t.” Xandra held on tighter to his hand, squeezed one last time before she let go and pushed her chair back to get up. “But this is my choice, father. And I want to give you a chance.”

Like in a dream, Charles watched her step around the table towards him. His arms spread on their own accord.

Her pink eyes moistening now, too, Xandra threw himself into his embrace and buried her head at his shoulder, her hands grasping fast at his flesh as he pulled her into his lap and hugged her very, very tightly.

For the first time in years, Charles held one of his children close – his and Lilandra’s daughter, the unexpected, lovely, utterly breathtaking result of a past he would never forget.

As he gently, very gently, cradled Xandra’s head with one hand and stroked her back with the other, his eyes met Erik’s across the room. He smiled, teary-eyed still, and his old friend smiled right back, at last relaxing his stance against the kitchen counter.

All was right.

The red glow of sunset was already pouring over Krakoa by the time Xandra had taken her leave through the Chandilar gate, and a cool breeze was sweeping clouds together over the highest point of Arakko in the distance. Charles gazed out across his people’s land with a light, dreamy heart.

“She’s a lovely young lady,” Erik remarked by his side. Like Charles, he had taken off his helmet when they had bid the Shi’ar Majestrix their final goodbyes – unlike Charles, however, he had been rather taken aback by Xandra throwing her arms around him in a hug.

Charles smiled and took Erik’s arm as they started down the hill, making for the House of M. “I’m glad you think so, darling. She’ll visit more often now that we’ve established somewhat of a father-daughter bond – you’ll have to put up with two optimistic telepaths from now on.”

Amusement shimmered fleetingly over Erik’s mind. “How come that you constantly seem to gain children while I only ever lose them?” he muttered before he laced his fingers with Charles’ and brought the back of Charles’ hand up to brush a kiss to the cool latex.

“Oh, Erik.” Charles shook his head. Even though Erik always acted as though he had long left the past behind, he knew the man’s heart still ached with the loss of his and Magda’s children – one lost to death, and two to misconception. “I know there is still hope. Don’t pretend like you didn’t send those e-mails to Wanda at her Strange Academy address – I saw you do it, and I appreciate the efforts you make trying to reconnect with her. And I’m sure she does, too.”

For a while, Erik said nothing. It was Charles’ turn to bring his hand up and place a gentle kiss on every white-clad fingertip, until Erik turned his head to smile at him.

“Maybe you’re right. She has agreed to meet with me soon.”

“Wonderful. So not all hope is lost, then.” They passed a bend, and at last, the gate leading to the throneworld of the Shi’ar disappeared from view. “Oh, and by the way - we have already received an invitation to Chandilar. We should follow up on it soon.”

Erik coked an eyebrow. “ _We?_ ”

Charles grinned. “If I may quote Gambit: ‘ _C’mon mes amis, vous êtes an open secret on Krakoa_.’ He and Rogue… _may_ have given Xandra too honest an idea of our relationship. In fact…”

He broke off. A gaggle of children passed, giggling and waving at them with webbed hands, claws and tentacles. Charles waved back, smiling.

Then, he continued, “You are a hero to them - to the young mutants of our nation. You may now also consider yourself a father to my daughter.”

He did not dream the tightening of Erik’s hand around his, or the unbridled delight, mingled with surprise, streaking over his old friend's mind like lightning.

“I’d be honoured to-” Erik fell still, his voice thick with tears. The golden shine of joy laced through his thoughts.

“I know you are.” Untangling their hands, Charles turned and pulled Erik down into a kiss, infinitely pleased with the ease with which Erik melted into the touch. _I know you are._

All was more than right.

**Author's Note:**

> Comint? 👀


End file.
